


late night stroll

by tyrseward



Series: Merlin Fics [43]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e04 Aithusa, Lancelot (Merlin) Lives, M/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22710508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrseward/pseuds/tyrseward
Summary: Lancelot is tired. He really wishes Merlin would stop dragging him out of bed in the middle of the night for unspecified reasons.
Relationships: Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin)
Series: Merlin Fics [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1472876
Comments: 10
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place at the end of s04e04: Aithusa, though you don't need to know this to read the fic. It just gives a bit of context that Lancelot is missing due to being too tired to process.

Lancelot is patient. He has to be, has trained the value into himself since he was little and his mother told him, no, you can’t be a knight, sorry, dearest, and he replied, but I’ll become one anyway. He has waited and trained and traveled and done more than he thought he would ever be capable of to reach his goal, hushing the small, restless part of him that longed to be more and reminding himself to be patient.

Lancelot is patient, and he has reached his goal, and now? He is exhausted.

Exhaustion and patience do not coexist very well. In fact, Lancelot knows full well how not-patient he is when he’s dragged out of a well-earn, desperately needed sleep.

As does Merlin, who has witnessed Lancelot’s grumbling, half-woken threats firsthand. Therefore, Merlin should know better than to knock insistently on Lancelot’s door shortly after midnight and, once he has crawled out of bed to answer the door, pull him into the hall and away from his room.

“Merlin,” Lancelot groans, reminding himself that he dearly loves Merlin and would be upset in the morning if Merlin died under mysterious circumstances. “What are you doing?”

“I want to show you something,” the warlock replies. He glances back at Lancelot, eyes fading from gold to blue, and Lancelot hears his doors shut quietly from behind. Then, Merlin sets the hand not currently clutching Lancelot’s wrist in a shackle-tight hold on his satchel, and _grins_. “Something important.”

“It better be,” Lancelot grumbles. Satisfied that he can put off the decision whether to dispose of Merlin for a bit, he settles into a walking daze, trusting Merlin enough to not disturb the desperate attempt to stay within sleep’s grasp.

Distantly, he hears Merlin breathe a spell beneath his breath. Lancelot stumbles as his socks and boots appear on his previously bare feet, then glares fiercely at Merlin.

Merlin shrugs, a bit more amused than Lancelot appreciates, and says, “We’re gonna be walking through the forest. I doubt you’ll be able to sleep walk through that without landing on your face, with or without my help.”

Lancelot curses under his breath. However, he does slowly surrender to wakefulness. By the time the two have made it to the tunnels Merlin frequently uses to sneak around Camelot, the knight is aware enough to note Merlin’s excited energy.

“Should I be concerned?” He asks. Several ideas of what awaits them flits through his mind. He then carefully shoves them aside and refuses to acknowledge them. “And should I have a sword?”

“It’s nothing dangerous.”

“And is that in your measurement of dangerous or in mine?”

Merlin laughs quietly, but does not respond.

Yes, Lancelot decides. He should definitely be concerned.

“You owe me a day of uninterrupted sleep. Two, if I end up pissing myself because I’m half-asleep and unarmed and you’re setting me up for a heart attack.”

“Don’t worry,” Merlin says, in a way that only makes him worry more. “I’ll tell Arthur you’ve fallen ill.”

’ _That’ll get you at least two days_ ,’ Merlin does not say. Lancelot hears it anyway.

Lancelot once again reminds himself that he loves Merlin and trusts him with his life. That does not stop him from wanting to strangle Merlin and return to bed if only to hide from whatever he’s being led to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lancelot 🤝 me  
> being fucking exhausted


	2. Chapter 2

“ _Merlin_ ,” Lancelot says, not for the first time, “where are we going? Please, just tell me. If I trip over one more root without knowing why I am out here, I _will_ curl up on the ground and go back to sleep.”

Instead of answering Lancelot, Merlin laughs. This, too, is not the first time this has happened tonight. If the way Merlin’s lips split into a grin and his eyes crinkle at the corners weren’t so endearing, Lancelot would have killed him by now, he’s sure of it.

As it is, he simply sighs and brushes away the part of his mind that wonders if it’s possible to freeze a moment in time in order to cherish it forever.

Eventually, they come to the edge of a clearing. Merlin shuffles from foot to foot, a bit nervous, now, and his hand is permanently attached to his satchel.

“Is there meant to be something here?”

Merlin huffs a laugh, shaking his head slightly. Then, he tips his head back and _roars_ and _oh, alright_ , Lancelot knows why they’re here. He is definitely going to end up pissing himself by the end of the night, then. At least he’s wide awake, now.

“Do you hate me?” Lancelot asks. And this time, when Merlin laughs, he frowns, half-joking, but genuinely wondering if there’s some sort of drawn out plan Merlin has to drive Lancelot into an early grave. “Do you - are you _trying_ to scare the life out of me? Because this is how you would do it.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin responds, and he does genuinely sound sorry, mostly, so Lancelot decides he can forgive him this once. Though, if he’s honest, he can’t picture a world where he couldn’t forgive Merlin for even the worst of offences. “I should’ve warned you about the summoning Kilgharrah bit, but that’s not the main reason why I dragged you out here.”

Lancelot hums, questioning, as he lowers himself to the ground beside a tree. He leans back against the trunk and pats the grass to his side.

“Well,” Merlin continues, clutching his satchel to his chest as he sits beside Lancelot, “it’s to do with the dragon egg.”

“The one that got destroyed?” Lancelot pauses, reconsiders everything that happened in the past few days, and groans. “The one that _supposedly_ got destroyed?”

“Wow, you really must be tired. Usually, you’d know what I was up to before even I figured it out.” A pause. “You’re not sick, are you?”

“Will be, if I do not get a full night of sleep, soon,” Lancelot grumbles, but shakes his head. “But no, Merlin, I’m alright. Just… a bit of warning, next time, please?”

At Merlin’s nod, Lancelot lets his mind focus on the fact that there is a _dragon egg_ in Merlin’s satchel. A dragon egg. A tiny, baby, fire-breathing beast who can talk. Can baby dragons talk? Or do they have to learn, like a human child? The more Lancelot thinks about it, the more questions he has. But mainly -

“Can I see it?”

“Hmm?”

“The egg. Can I see?”

In an instant, all of Merlin’s previous excitement is back. He’s only just holding back from bouncing where he sits, instead lifting the satchel flap and revealing the dragon egg with a reverence Lancelot has rarely seen from him.

The egg is, in a word, stunning.

“Oh,” Lancelot says, too transfixed to come up with anything more eloquent. “That is… wow.”

“I know.”

Without a thought, Lancelot raises a hand to the egg, fingers tracing the side lightly. It’s _warm_.

“ _Wow_ ,” he repeats, pressing his palm to the egg just above Merlin’s.

The two stay like that, leaning shoulder-to-shoulder, half-curled around the dragon egg, until faint wingbeats can be heard in the distance.

Lancelot rises first, joints creaking ominously. Once he’s steady on his feet, he reaches down and helps Merlin up. The satchel lies on the ground, forgotten, in favor of Merlin cradling the egg to his chest.

Instead of following Merlin as he walks toward the center of the clearing, Lancelot lingers behind. He’s already been up close and personal with the Great Dragon before. He doesn’t feel a need to repeat the experience.

Still, he edges around the treeline in order to have a better view of Merlin’s front, and the egg in his arms.

Now, when Lancelot looks up, the dragon is visible above the trees, growing closer and closer at a terrifying rate. A shudder runs down his spine.

Then, the dragon lands. He looks… _happy_? Lancelot isn’t entirely sure how to interpret draconic expressions, but he’s fairly certain of this.

“Hello, young warlock,” the dragon says. “And you, Sir Lancelot.”

“Hello, Kilgharrah,” Merlin responds, grinning broadly as Lancelot hesitates, then waves. “Don’t mind Lancelot, I dragged him out of bed and he’s still a bit tired.”

Though, it doesn’t seem that Merlin’s explanation is needed. After all, the dragon has yet to take his eyes off of the dragon egg.

A moment passes in silence, Merlin’s eyes also drawn back to the egg. Can Merlin sense the dragon inside? Can he feel a bond to it, as he has with the Great Dragon?

Without his permission, Lancelot’s feet take him a few steps forward. Before he can retreat again, Merlin shifts to the side, just the slightest bit. Still, Lancelot does not miss the clear invitation in the motion.

Carefully watching the dragon out of the corner of his eye, Lancelot walks to the center of the clearing, and stands at Merlin’s shoulder.

“When will it hatch?”

“Young dragons were called into the world by the dragonlords. Only they had the power to summon them from the egg.” The dragon shifts his head, looking to Merlin. “As the last dragonlord, this solemn duty falls to you, Merlin.”

A moment passes, and Merlin still does not look up from the egg. But, he asks, “How do I summon it?”

“You must give the dragon a name.”

Merlin hums quietly, then nods. He walks away, sets the egg down on a nearby tree stump.

Takes a deep breath.

Another moment passes, this one tenser, _focused_.

Then, “ _Aithusa_.”

Almost instantly, the egg begins to crack, as though the dragon inside cannot bear to remain there any longer.

And out pops the most adorable creature Lancelot has ever seen.

He coos a little, before he can stop himself.

Merlin laughs, though he does not turn away from the baby dragon. Fortunately, the Great Dragon is far too busy staring, teary-eyed, at the hatchling to notice Lancelot’s outburst.

“A white dragon is, indeed, a rare thing...and fitting,” the dragon says. “For in the dragon tongue, you named them after the light of the sun. No dragon birth is without meaning.”

As the hatchling continues to completely demolish their egg, Merlin half-turns to the dragon, cheeks wet and smiling. His eyes never leave the hatchling.

“Sometimes the meaning is hard to see,” the dragon continues, “but this time I believe it is clear. The white dragon bodes well for Albion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been sitting on this for five months so i figured i should post it at some point

**Author's Note:**

> Also [posted on tumblr](https://tyrseward.tumblr.com/post/190820807483/late-night-stroll)!
> 
> Lancelot trusts Merlin with his life, but certainly not his sanity. I, for one, am definitely a fan of somewhat violent when exhausted Lancelot & his night owl warlock who has brutally murdered his sleep schedule. 
> 
> This is an old fic that I wrote at 4am in all lowercase & upon rereading decided it was actually good & I wanted to share it. I tried to make this not all lowercase when I copied it over here, but lmk if I missed anything! 
> 
> This is an au I've been playing with for a while (in which Lancelot lives is nothing new from me, but specifically, he & Merlin co-parent a baby dragon) & will definitely make a reappearance at some point. As soon as I'm done with my million other fics. I have so many & but barely any of them are posted anywhere. Why do I do this to myself.


End file.
